<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Mine of Knives + The Settlement of Privacy by BaconnEggs</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558808">The Mine of Knives + The Settlement of Privacy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaconnEggs/pseuds/BaconnEggs'>BaconnEggs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Minecraft, Canonical Character Death, Crack, Death, Gen, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5: Vento Aureo, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5: Vento Aureo Spoilers, Memorials, Minecraft, One Shot, POV Death, POV Second Person, POV: You are minecraft steve, Post-Canon, Snippets, Stabbing, but like its not graphic or anything</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:08:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558808</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaconnEggs/pseuds/BaconnEggs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So the RWCW server had this fun little challenge where we'd make little snippets based on terraria generation. Enjoy, I guess?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Terraria World Name Generator Prompts</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1-A Mine of Knives</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your ragged breaths echo in the dark cavern, reverberating around the walls like the whispers of ghouls. Your steps are heavy and labored, putting your hand against the wall for support. Every move sends shards of white-hot pain in your muscles as the knives in your back twist, digging deeper into your flesh, into your soul.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn't like you weren't expecting to fight as you entered the cave, torches in hand, pickaxe at your side. Sure, the average zombie and spider were easy to deal with. Skeletons? A bit annoying, but at the end of the day their just piles of bones, held together by remnants of souls long dead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This thing, chasing you, was a whole new beast. Maniacal cackling bounces off the walls, the ghouls laughing at you now. Suddenly, your legs give out on you, screaming in agonized exhaustion as you struggle helplessly to get back on your feet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"Too Late"</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You feel your blood freeze and your heart drops to your stomach, stock-still as slow, deliberate steps get closer and closer. You can't even breathe as you feel your hair being pulled back, your spine in an unnatural arch backward, tear-filled brown eyes forced to meet searing amber ones. A fang-toothed grin haunts your vision as you feel another stab to your stomach, a whimper of pain and hopelessness escaping your lips. It only made the grin widen to a maddened expression of glee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>"Didn't you listen to the rules of the game?"</em> the monster asks, venom coating every syllable. As your vision darkens, the light of your torches growing dim, with the last shred of your consciousness you hear the yellow-clad vampire utter a phrase, mocking you as you drift away into the void;</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't mine at night."</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2- A Settlement of Privacy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Will that be all?"<br/><br/></p><p>The portly contractor gestures to the sheaf of papers and blueprints scattered on the desk as Giorno looks over a contract in his hand. Satisfied with whatever he's reading, with a flick of the wrist, pen in hand, a signature full of looping, graceful strokes appears at the bottom of the page. With a firm handshake, the contractor gathers his materials and makes his way out of the office, promising to keep in contact in the coming days. Giorno leans back in his office chair, golden sunlight filtering through the French doors, kissing his skin and softly illuminating the three curls in his hair.<br/><br/></p><p>"What was all of that for?" a voice asks behind him. Polnareff, or at least, the miniature apparition of the soul of Polnareff, props his chin against Coco Jumbo's shell. Giorno turns to face his position on the desk, a soft, wistful smile ghosting across his face,</p><p> </p><p>"You'll see."<br/><br/></p><p>The decided location was one of the many properties Giorno inherited as the new Don of Passione. A tucked-away grove on the outskirts of Naples, It was neither grand nor expansive, but it was quiet and private, two qualities that made it <em>perfect </em>for this project. As he, Mista, and Trish make their way across the newly repaired path, they can’t help but gasp at the sight that fills their eyes.<br/><br/></p><p>Swooping locks of grey. A youthful smile mid-laugh. The outstretched hand of a gentle soul. Three statues stood before the trio, fine marble capturing every subtle micro-expression, every fold of cloth. Giorno felt a hint of self-pride in his choices. <em>Clearly</em>, that Scollipi fellow was the right man for this job. An awestruck Trish reaches past Giorno out to the outstretched hand of Bucciarati, but there was no warmth, no life thrumming behind the cold, smooth surface of the stone. Mista could only stand there, eyes full with tears as he silently thanks, over and over, to the three standing before them, for their spirit, their souls, and their sacrifices.<br/><br/></p><p>After an hour, when Trish and Mista have left the grove, only Giorno remains. Slowly, he walks over to the statues, Golden Experience manifesting at his side. Placing his hands at the base of Abbacchio’s marbled form, vines start sprouting from the cracked ground beneath them. Wrapping around their stony figures, soft blooms of lily burst from the vines.<br/><br/></p><p>By the time he was finished, save the stark-white of the newly carved marble, the memorial looks as if it had been standing there for quite a long time, creeping vines and blooms of white and pale yellow creeping across its façade. As Giorno stands up with a twig in his hand, he transforms it into one final lily, its delicate petals fanning out like the wings of a butterfly.<br/><br/></p><p>Walking towards Bucciarati, he places the lily in his outstretched hand. “I hope,” Giorno begins as he stepped back to take in the view, “-that now the fighting is all over, you all can enjoy this place in peace.” With a small bow, he pays his respects to the mafiosos standing before him.<br/><br/></p><p>To Abbacchio, who was loyal to the very end.<br/><br/></p><p>To Narancia, whose energy pushed the team through the hardest fights.<br/><br/></p><p>To Bucciarati, who saved them all and gave them a dream to believe in.<br/><br/></p><p>“Thank you.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>